Sammy
Twelve years ago, my brother brought a young chocolate lab, Sammy, to live with my Mom. At the time, Mom was insistent that she did not want a dog. Sammy, however, quickly captured Mom’s heart, and Dad’s, and the rest of ours, and was allowed to stay. You couldn’t help but love Sammy when you looked into her soft brown eyes. When Ryan was a toddler, he would break into a giggle at the sight of her – we were never sure what he found so amusing, but something about Sammy just made Ryan smile, and then laugh out loud. Connor, whose name actually means lover of hounds, befriended Sammy the first time he met her. From then on, boy and dog were inseparable when together at Grandma’s house. Sammy was such a good sport, quietly tolerating Connor’s constant attentions. Watching Sammy and Connor traipse through the woods together, it was easy to see how special their friendship was. Today, Connor is bravely trying to work through his feelings about Sammy’s passing, trying to make sense of her loss; he follows every mention of Sammy with “but Sammy died,” and a quiet pause. It is clear Sammy will always hold a special place in his heart. It is also clear that we need to find a new name for “Grandma with Sammy.” “Grandma with Sammy, but Sammy died” is just too long.